My mom is the ultimate pack rat. She has a garage full of things that haven't been touched nor seen in at least 20 years, yet she refuses to get rid of them "just in case." Just in case of what you may wonder? In case there's an emergency where she needs 28 years worth of McDonalds Happy Meal toys to appease the angry mobs that may come to her door? Or there's suddenly a come back and she would regret throwing away the jumpsuits she wore when she was a teenager? What? What? Just in case of what? Just in case! And so the junk accumulates and not-so-gradually takes over their home. Instead of getting rid of things, they prefer buying new dressers, drawers, cabinets and shelves to store more and more stuff that comes their way. Soon, there will no longer be room for people and they'll have to pitch a tent in the back yard.

Trying to be a good daughter, I attempted to clean the hole they call home. I didn't know where to start and spent my first couple of days praying for fire or tornado to just take the place away. But, no. So I started with a wet rag and began to work. Satisfied that the top layer of dirt was gone and that my family would not catch a serious disease by touching their walls, I began to delve deeper. "Hey, Mom? How about we go through just one drawer and eliminate some things you haven't used in a while?" That was a mistake. I got the usual "loud talk" from my Mom. (Don't try to tell her it's yelling... SHE'S NOT YELLING!!!!) I tried my best to persuade her that she'd be a lot happier if she ditched the large collection of free fast food restaurant cups in order to open up a cupboard for her real glasses. But no. How about emptying the drawer full of McDonalds toys and free stickers she got from the doctors? No. Unwilling to open it up to a full out battle, and determined to have a fight-free visit, I let it go. Let her keep her treasures.

But as soon as she turned her back, do you know what I did? I opened up that drawer, pulled out a Ronald McDonald plastic keychain and sent it to dumpster heaven where all of his friends have been waiting for him for at least 20 years. I smiled. And in my eyes, this passive aggressive won the battle.

My sister came over later that day and I told her about my victory. "It felt good. Trust me."
"Ya?"
"Ya."
She walked to the same drawer, pulled out a sticker with a smiling tooth with braces on it and tossed it in the trash.
"Wow! That was nice!"
"Ya. Makes a girl feel good."
"Ya..."

And so my sister and I bonded. Two birds. One stone.